Envy
by Calenlass Greenleaf1
Summary: Envy was a sin, and one that he was guilty of. Him, all Crow and all Central, was envious of Exorcists. Unbelievable. He will blame this on the cold that was going around. Howard Link POV, on Allen Walker. Giftfic. -Complete-
1. I

**Title:** Envy

**Author: **Calenlass Greenleaf (calen_greenleaf on LJ)

**Disclaimer:** D. Gray-man belongs to Hoshino. Who with her recent chapters makes my head spin.

**Spoilers:** Mangaverse only, DGM in general, including new chapters after Hoshino's hiatus. Spoilers for 200; I had first hesitated to put the new stuff in, but I gave in and worked it on. Here's to hoping it won't contradict 201 or future chapters |)

**Timeframe:** Four parts. First part is right after the Level 4 attack. Second part is before the Timothy Arc. The third part is…after the Timothy Arc, but before the Thirds are introduced and before the hiatus and Crazy!Kanda Arc. Fourth part is…kinda post-DGM. My timing may off, but it should work? If not, take it with a grain of salt.

**Rating:** Slapping a PG-13 on it *shrug*

**Warnings:** None, really. Just Link being Link. Excessive amounts of headcanon. Mentioned violence.

**Pairings: **Pairings, what pairings? I'm keeping this one simple (Except for one mention of Marie/Miranda, which I cannot resist).

**Summary:** Envy was a sin, and one that he was guilty of. Him, all Crow and all Central, was envious of Exorcists. Unbelievable. He will blame this on the cold that was going around. Howard Link POV. Giftfic

**A/N:** I blame roleplay, roleplaying Link, and certain excellent Allen roleplayers for this fic, to which this dedicated. :)

* * *

_**Envy**_

**I.**

[ _October_ ]

"It's my job."

Those words, Link said over and over again. He even thought them in his mind write now as he was writing.

Watching Allen Walker was a job, nothing more.

Yet this boy, he was unlike any other job. For one, he was both honest and dishonest at the same time. He was certainly opinionated, and he could range from happy to peeved in an instant. But he very polite. And he had a tight, tight guard on his true emotional state and just about everything else. The only things he gave freely were his smiles. And smile he did. Smiled when they had first met, grinned at half the accusations thrown at him, and smirked when the jokes turned on Link.

Link could honestly say he didn't like poker, and after meeting Allen Walker he liked it even less. He couldn't even catch the boy at cheating, but he was certain he did so.

Allen liked making himself enigmatic. Then again, so did Link.

He dipped his pen, mentally counting this was tenth page. Every night, he would transfer his notes to the official records; every day would usually yield twenty pages of notes. It was a good thing he didn't going this, else he'd be writing himself to the grave.

But after a few weeks of this job, and after the Level 4 had attacked, he had realised there might be some things he would never want Central to see, and thus he had started a journal of his own.

A part of him knew that if he was found out, he could very easily be accused of being a traitor for withholding information.

Link allowed himself a grim smile as he turned a page. One did not live to a Crow without knowing how the systems worked. If they didn't know, they couldn't ask.

And so he would supervise, and take notes.

_**TBC**_

**A/N:** Intro aside, it's not going to be ridiculously short.


	2. II

**II.**

[ _November_ ]

"You must be jesting."

"Hardly." Unsympathetically, he yanked the covers away. "Just because you are ill does not mean you can't try to put in at least a half-day's work."

"Frankly, I would rather have no-one finding out I was ill so I could go on a mission." Allen yawned, pressing his fingers over his head. He curled up on his head and sleepily glared at Link for the loss of covers. "But no, I was found out and now forced to do paperwork."

"Well, would you rather that you fight Akuma with clouded judgment, possibly make your cold worse, endanger other Exorcists? Or would you rather write reports, sleep early, and have plentiful food when you so want?" Link stepped away, knowing the weight of his words. "Food" would always do the trick; the white-haired exorcist sat up and sighed.

"Fine. What do I have to do?" He looked over at Link. "Pie, later?"

…not the one he had baked for himself. "Several reports; the last one was somehow lost, and you need two news ones," Link replied, "and…later."

And yet he still agreed. Why in the world did he agree.

"Tha—" Allen froze, and then he suddenly sneezed. "Sorry."

"God bless you," he said, out of habit, sitting down at his desk.

Why? Because Allen Walker is still a sort of child, with the wants and needs of a child. And Link was hardly someone cruel. Just…jaded, perhaps?

Walker was now mostly talking to himself—or Timcampi—with topics ranging from food, the weather, his friends—anything. Link half-listened and half-took notes, used to this from his charge. A few months of this job, and he could easily pick up various nuances from Allen with easy. And still there was more.

Far more.

He critically inspected a small tear on his right glove—forefinger, near the knuckle but not-quite-there. Slipping his gloves off, he laid them aside and discreetly directed his gaze back to Allen.

The boy had finally gotten dressed and was going through the motions of sorting through his desk, mumbling about trying to find a pen that wasn't leaky. A muffin was in his free hand and his golem was chewing on paper—scrap paper, Link fervently hoped. He watched various expressions flit across Allen's so fast that he couldn't name them, but he pick out tiredness, mild irritation, semi-contentment, and distractedness.

And then Allen realised Link was looking at him, and he paused mid-shuffling of papers to give the other a smile.

Link had already categorised most of Walker's smiles; 1) the default smile 2) the strained one 3) the sad one 4) the unsure one, and 5) the real one. Walker's current smile would fit into…number four, he would have to say, if the Exorcist's eyes were any indication.

"You know, whenever you look at me like that, I wonder what you see."

He broke away from his thoughts. "Pardon?"

"That look." Allen fished out a pen and eyed it before he deemed it fit for his purpose. "It's a perfect poker face. A very, very blank expression that tempts me to throw it off." He took another muffin out and chewed thoughtfully.

"…is that why you always smile and try to make a joke?"

"I do?" A frown, and then he nodded. "I suppose…because it can be disconcerting to have someone look at you like that when it isn't during a card game." A slight cough, and he propped his head in his chin. "Is there any tea?"

"Coffee. But—" He pushed his mug away and stood up. "I'll get tea."

"I can—"

"No."

"But—"

"After you put in two hours, you can go out." Link walked towards the door.

"Cruel."

"It's my job."

Allen muttered something that sounded like 'you always say that and I hate that answer,' but Link decided to be lenient today and pretend he didn't hear a word as he stepped out into the hallway, clicking the door shut behind him.

The air out here was nippier, and he readjusted his jacket before he began striding quickly, footsteps tapping. Finders quietly acknowledged him with a nod and bow, and he returned it with a nod. Only on the second floor did he run into any Exorcists.

Lenalee Lee glanced up at him from her conversation with Kanda Yuu, the mostly content expression on her face suddenly replaced by a guarded look. Kanda went from expressionless to guarded, too, though the shift was far more subtle.

"Where's Allen?" She asked.

Not even a good morning. Link paused in his step as he simply shrugged. "In his room, working."

She pursed her lips, and he could see the question in her eyes before she asked it. "Are you keeping him purposefully there?"

"No. I'll assume that you didn't hear that he has a cold." He shifted on his feet.

"He's sick?" Instantly the guards were down, and she was nibbling on her lower lip. "Let's go, Kanda—"

"No."

"Don't make me drag you." She firmly clasped his wrist and tugged him. "For a couple of minutes, we can distract him…"

And then they were walking away, Link forgotten. He stood there for a brief moment, before he shook his head and continued his walk to the kitchen.

It would always be like that. Because for all the time they knew him, he would always be like a shadow to them.

:=:=:=:=:=:=:

"You're supposed to be getting better, not worse."

"How…am I s'pposed to know what my body wants to do?" A wet-sounded cough, and then Allen turned over and tried to pull the covers more tightly around him. "It's been three days…I expected to be better by now."

"Maybe if—"

"And you can't say anything Link," he said loudly, before coughing again. Wincing, too. Probably his throat was extremely sensitive. "I don't want to hear it now." The boy shook his head. "Not…now."

"Hmph," was all Link said as he continued to write things in his notebook. Just because Allen Walker was sick didn't mean there wasn't any need for him to take notes. "You should take better care of yourself."

"I thought I was your responsibility," Allen retorted, "If I died on your watch, what would Central say?"

Link deliberately paused, as if he were seriously considering this question. "You've suffered worse than colds, Walker. It would be shameful if you died from a cold without fulfilling the promises you've made."

"…that's true."

Of course it was true.

And the room was silent for a few more minutes.

Link turned a page in his notebook and refilled his pen. He was just about to write when the door slammed open, and he mentally prepared himself for the disruption that was Bookman Junior.

"A-llen!" A cursory glance at Link before he sat down on the bed and ruffled Allen's hair.

"Lavi." And Link was treated to a genuine smile, though not directed at him. "Did you just get back?"

"Yep." Lavi scratched the top of his brightly-coloured locks. "Boring mission. Wish you could've been there."

"If only I'm not sick." And then Allen suppressed a cough by turning it into a sigh. "You're not injured?"

"Not a single scratch." And when Lavi was peering anxiously at the boy. "Are you sure it's only a cold? Two-Spots isn't preventing you from seeing the nurse, is he?"

Why are they always assuming the worst about him? "I hadn't. I was the first notice he was ill," Link answered stiffly, "and I prevented him from going on a mission with you lest it _worsened_."

He shouldn't be this rankled by Bookman's words…

"Ah, really?" Lavi gave him a rather unascertainable look that probably was meant to annoy him.

"It's true." Allen gave him a light shove. "Never mind that; tell me where you went?" He pushed himself up.

"You can't remember?"

"I forgot because I never given the details of the mission?"

"Oh. It was Venice."

"Venice…in Italy?"

"Mm, it's nice at this time of the year." Lavi leaned against the wall next to the bed. "If we ever get vacation time, we oughta go there. Yuu and Lenalee, too. Maybe after the war's over or something."

"That would be ni—" Grey eyes widened as he clapped a hand over his mouth and coughed.

"Allen?" And the happy-go-lucky expression on Bookman Junior's face was gone as he shifted over to place a hand on the younger Exorcist's shoulder.

Allen shook his head, holding up a hand until he could talk. "Just…a cold…" he weakly interjected, smiling a little.

_Category two,_ Link mentally thought.

"A really bad one, eh?" Lavi rested the back of his hand on Allen's forehead. "Huh, looks like it got worse even if you hadn't gone out on the mission with me…"

The white-haired exorcist just grunted and dropped his head on Lavi's shoulder. "It doesn't matter anymore," he murmured, slumping. "I just wish I could get a full-night's rest…sorry we can't really talk now."

Lavi had somehow threaded his fingers in Allen's hair and was lightly tugging his fingers through the locks. "Talking can wait. But you're going to be fine, right? Is not like this is the worst."

"Hah," Allen swatted at his hand. "Stop that. Of course I would survive this."

And Link saw the change from strained to relaxed in an instant. An uncomfortable feeling was prickling the back of his neck, and he finally ended up turning around to face his desk, so find something else…to do.

Walker was softly chuckling at something Bookman Junior just said, and Link's fingers tightened ever-so-slightly on his pen.

He couldn't understand this feeling. He was supposed to be above feeling anything in regards to this job. Yet there is was; an explicable heaviness that was starting to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Link reached for his cold cup of tea and stiffly downed it, the grittiness at the end sticking onto his tongue and masking some of the bitter taste, but not all of it.

His notebook was left mostly unused that night, or at least the pages that had been used were filled with scratched out markings, or they were ripped out.

_**TBC**_

**A/N:** none


	3. III

**III.**

[ _Late December_ ]

He wished they would stop laughing.

"You stupid Rabbit, stop—grgh!"

"Aw, Yuu, just let me try it."

"Lavi, maybe we should—"

"Can you please try not to choke me?"

Link simply stifled a sneeze and continued writing something in his notebook, trying to ignore the four Exorcists, but not quite succeeding. Bookman Junior had somehow gotten into his head that his scarf was long enough to fit around all four of them; Allen disagreed, and before anyone could say anything, Lavi had wound his scarf around Allen, himself, dragged Kanda into, somehow also getting Lenalee into it. They were half-toppling, half-balanced. Allen, at one end, looked as if he were starting to have his air caught off. Lavi had one arm thrown over Allen's shoulder and his other arm over Kanda. Kanda, as usual, just looked murderous and was waving his sheathed sword about. Lenalee, at the other end, was caught between laughter and trying to keep Kanda from killing Lavi.

"Lavi…I daresay you sometimes have the worst ideas." Allen was yanking at the scarf.

"Nooo. I have brilliant ones!"

Kanda gave the fabric a hard tug. "For the last time, let me go, dammit," His hands are unsheathing Mugen.

"Kanda!" Lenalee gave him a look of disapproval and placed her hand on his arm.

"Nope~" Lavi looked a little too happy.

"Kanda, I need to breathe!" Allen gasped between laughs. "Stop pulling—"

"Che."

"Aww, Yuu, you don't like scarves?"

"I hate them." 

"You hate everything."

"What was that you said, Moyashi?"

"_Allen_. And I said you hated everything."

"_Moyashi_."

"Don't start it, you two—"

"Damn Usagi_, get your arm off of me_." And Kanda wrenched a little too hard, and sent them all sprawling on the snow-covered ground.

"Ahhh! There's snow in my shirt! Cold, cold, cold…" Allen wriggled away, laughing and teeth chattering at the same time.

"Well, do ya believe me now?" Bookman Junior was sprawled flat on the ground, a look of triumph on his face. "Told you my scarf isn't as short as you think."

Lenalee sat up and brushed away the white from her skirt. "Yes, we do, Lavi." She was trying to hide her laughter, but the soft flush in her cheeks gave away her amusement.

"Che." Kanda just shook the snow from his head and kicked a pile of it over the redheaded Exorcist, eliciting a yelp. "I don't care about all this shi—"

"Yuu—!"

Link gave up and snapped his book shut. "Walker, I'll be waiting for you inside," he curtly said just before walking away.

Allen barely looked at him, as he waved a hand in response while offering his other hand to Lenalee so that she could stand. "Right," he said, just before a snowball hit him in the face. "Lavi!"

"It wasn't me!"

"Oh, you—"

He closed the door on them. And then sneezed. Timcampi, who had been sitting on his head, jerked away from him.

_I'll be glad once this mission is over,_ he thought as he walked through the lobby the hotel and up the stairs. A cold and winter did not mix well with him. But…it wasn't just those two things that were bothering him.

He reached the room he was sharing with Allen. Briefly, his gaze went to the bed, but he forced himself to walk towards the desk. There were still things he needed to do. Ignoring the ache in his throat and the throbbing of his head, he flipped his notebook open and dipped his pen into the inkbottle. From this viewpoint, he could see all four of them, still running around and throwing snowballs. Kanda had just nailed Allen with a snowball and was sitting on him, trying to get him to yield, while Lavi and Lenalee were sneaking up behind him.

_How childish,_ he said in his mind as he began writing_. And these are four of the best Exorcists? What as the world come to?_

But he couldn't shake the image of their happiness—well, in Kanda's case, a sort of disgruntled contentment—from his mind, as they had fallen over in a heap, mission forgotten in a few hours of play.

His own writing hazed in front of him, and he blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision and concentrate. Why was he so worked up over this? He didn't understand. He shouldn't be caring. He shouldn't even be thinking about anything beyond his given task of watching Allen Walker. But he was and it rankled him.

He pressed too hard and several blots appeared on the page. Frustrated, he dropped his pen and rested his head between his hands, pressing his cold palms into his temples.

This feeling, Link finally could put a name to it: Envy. Envy was a sin, and one that he was guilty of. Him, all Crow and all Central, was envious of Exorcists. Unbelievable. He will blame this on the cold that was going around.

Well, that would only get him so far. The fact still stood that he envied. He envied an Exorcist with a sad, sad past and was both the predicted Destroyer of Time and also the Host of the Fourteenth. An Exorcist who was around the age of seventeen, but was the most valuable thing in this war. A boy with strange ideas of wanting to save everything around him, jumping headlong into things without a second thought. A boy who would be polite in one second and then arguing with his fellow Exorcist over something petty. A child was a saviour, tearful and half-head in his earnest to save, and almost-heretic with his ideas at the same time. A child with a number of unresolved issues and burdens and yet he didn't care about them, he just cared about others.

It wasn't as if Link were _deprived_ of anything. He had had a good education, some of the best training possible. He had authority Exorcists didn't have, access to resources, spells, and seals prohibited from others. Allen Walker had few of these things. Yet despite all this, he found himself envious of the Exorcists.

What did Allen have that he didn't?

The friendship. The camaraderie. The feeling of being free among trusted people. The ability to smile and laugh so easily. Uncomplicated things that he hadn't considered or even wanted before he was assigned this job.

_What had changed?_

He softly repeated the question aloud, raising head to watch the red-and-black-clad figures outside run about. He received no reply; there was only Timcampi, fluttering down to sit on his head again.

And after a few long minutes, he picked his pen back up again.

:=:=:=:=:=:=:

[ _Twenty-ninth of December_ ]

"Link, I hate to say this, but what sort of idiot tries to ignore a cold as long as he can until he falls over and his temperature is up to thirty-nine degrees?"

That question didn't merit an answer. He simply lay in the bed, eyes closed and face turned towards the wall.

"You didn't really need to watch me on my birthday, though I had to admit Lavi's prank on you was rather overdone," Allen continued.

The only response Link gave him was a series of coughs.

"But then again, without that prank, we wouldn't have discovered you were ill—"

"Walker."

"…yes?"

"Stop talking and leave."

Allen stopped talking, and there were sounds that indicated him standing up, and he was left to his own thoughts. Thoughts that were just as loud as any voice, but far more self-depreciating. It had been a long, long time since he had contracted something as severe as this. He could barely think; breathing was labourious, and everything hurt. And the whole point? It simply showed that he was as human as any other person. No special powers; everything he had wasn't something he originally had, they were all gaining and not connected to him. That was all sickness was supposed to be.

…he just needed to recover fast enough so that he can be back to his routine. They had confiscated his writing utensils…even books. He chafed at this, but when one was tipping over and everything was blurring, you had very little choice.

And Allen was right. He had been an idiot. But he couldn't have helped it; after since the day he had contracted the cold, he had been overworking himself for the sheer purpose of a busy day that left him no room to think and offered a dreamless night.

Sounds of crunching and footsteps made him crack his eyes open and roll around to see Allen walking back, holding several dishes of food. The Exorcist sat down, Timcampi perched on his shoulder.

"…what are you doing?"

"Eating?"

"This isn't the dining area."

"No, but it's not a bad place for it."

"Why?"

"I'm keeping you company." Chew, chew, swallow. Allen paused and looked up. "Why are giving me that look?"

"There are more productive things to do."

"I already did paperwork."

"…find something else."

"I find it strange you're trying to be rid of me when you usually follow me around so closely."

No…he did not need Walker to try to be discerning right now. "Consider this week your week off," he muttered before he turned back around.

"And this is how I'm deciding to spend it," the Exorcist replied.

"…"

"…"

"…" Link counted to fifteen before Allen finally said something.

"Link, I have a confession to make."

Well, that was unexpected. "Make your confession on a Sunday."

"But it's a confession directed to you."

"Then say it."

"I'm not sure, should I?"

"I will eventually drag it out of you, Walker."

"I found your notebook and I read it."

"W—"

"Not the official one. The one I see you writing in most of the time."

He sat up and stared at Allen before he could stop himself from reacting. "You—"

"In my defense, I didn't read all of it!" The Exorcist raised his hands.

He opened his mouth, ready to state all the reasons why this was wrong, but then he closed his mouth. The deed had already been done. So he simply sighed instead and pressed his hands to his temples. "Walker, why do you make my life difficult?"

"…I make it difficult by being helpful in cleaning our room and accidentally picking up your notebook?"

"I could go to Central and tell them you were interfering."

"You could." The rustle of clothing was heard as Allen leant back in his chair. "But you're not going to."

Link kept his mouth shut as he looked away.

He wasn't.

"Link?" There was a touch on his shoulder that he forced himself not to react to.

"You want to know why I think the way I do."

"Well, if you put it that way…" He could imagine the look on Allen's face right now—that mixture of deliberation and curiosity. "Yes."

The silence stretched as he stared into whiteness and watched the white turn into strange little patterns because of his intense gaze. He stared until his eyes started to water and things started to blur. And then he broke the silence with a cough. There were not too many times Howard Link was rendered speechless. As Crow, you were expected to give prompt answers. In fact, you weren't supposed to be hesitant in anything you did. Except Allen Walker had a way of contradicting everything that was allegedly set in stone.

Exorcists were God's weapons who were supposed to sacrifice themselves. Half of them didn't even understand the true motives of why they were here. Those that did—well, they smiled bitterly and hid their veiled taunts. And some probably knew and didn't understand, or understood too well that they wanted to change something that was unyielding.

Allen was the only one that didn't fit into any of those categories.

"It hardly began that way," Link finally said as he blinked, and reached out a hand to scrabble for the glass of water. He found it when other fingers pushed it towards him. "I was simply doing my job."

And Allen said nothing. Mercifully.

"I expected you to be another traitor who would be found out in time." A sip of cold water briefly numbed his throat, even if it were tasteless, like everything else. "Only in time did…time prove that it wasn't so."

Some sort of ridiculous frustration took hold of him at the moment, and he suddenly reached out to grab the Exorcist by the shoulder. "Tell me something, Walker," he says—or rather, rasps out as he dimly realizes what he is doing, but he somehow doesn't seem to care. "Just why are you so _damn_ unreadable? Don't give me the usual answer, or even that smile."

"Lin—"

His fingers tightened in the fabric as he swayed ever-so-slightly. "I. do. not. under. stand." he enunciated every word carefully, more for himself and his mind because he was having trouble sounding coherent even to himself. "I want to understand. More than anything."

A harsh sound broke out from his lips, sounding like something in-between a cough and a laugh. Maybe it was either one, maybe it was both; he couldn't tell. "God help me, I am willing to break you just to see that. If I have to go to verge of killing you, I would bring myself to do that just to understand."

It went far deeper than any order he had been given from Central and Leverrier himself. He wouldn't call himself a sadist; no-one would call themselves that. But was it even right? Crow were interrogators and executioners. He had seen people go stubbornly and people go pathetically. More often, the stubbornness was borne out of direct hate, and the pathetic out of sheer fear. However he had the feeling Allen would end up cracking and yet still tenacious, a combination of defiance and uncertainty because his mind was quite the strange one—certain things angered him, other things hurt him. No amount of trying to wrest out a confession or something truth (or fake truth) would do any good. Even the Fourteenth mattered very little.

But there were instances that Link could see—and it was only underneath a cracked visage. The Level 4 attack. The brief time right after the incidence in the orphanage. And various other moments that left his theories on Allen all amuck. People shed tears for different reasons, but you shed them in all strangest times.

…he wasn't even making sense in his mind. Maybe he was just sick. Maybe he wasn't even human enough to understand.

Just what are you, Walker, that was so infuriatingly distinct?

"Link." Hands closed over his own. "I could ask the same of you, sometimes."

He stared dumbly at the pair of grey eyes before it registered in his mind that he had been saying everything aloud.

"And I could ask the same of myself." Warm fingers gently pried his cold ones from the wrinkled shirt, and he didn't resist.

"To be honest, even I don't understand myself at times." Allen continued to speak. "I suppose I…cannot answer your question. But I never meant to vex you like this."

"Hn." There was very little he could say, after he just voiced thoughts that betrayed the image of the inspector he was supposed to be.

"But, Link." The hand was back on his shoulder again. "I never said you weren't human because—" A soft, genuine smile and he didn't even feel the need to categorise. "Only a human would have those wants that you want."

"You pity me." He said the words before thinking.

"Hardly." Allen shook his head. "You were being honest. I have to respect you for that."

Belatedly, he realised he need to lie back before everything went black.

"You should sleep."

"You're…the one who is talking to me."

"You would rather I avoid you?"

"…actually, I should be avoiding you now."

"But you can hardly do that because your job it to follow me around."

Link threw an arm over his eyes. "Just what is the point of bringing all of this up?" he wearily asked.

"Well—" a long pause. "I always knew there was more to you than you being a stuffy, uptight Inspector who is slightly obsessive about his note-taking."

"I am not—"

"And also an Inspector who likes baking pies and playing chess and who isn't as heartless as he pretends."

He cannot say anything to that.

"Are we not…all sinners?" Allen finally asked. "In need of redemption?"

"Some more redeemable than others."

"Just how redeemable am I?"

"Enough that I could be your executioner."

"…that's not a lot, is it?"

"No."

"…your notes…say otherwise."

"They mention nothing on that."

"Are you so desperate to find information to incriminate me? Guilty until proven innocent?" Faint amusement was creeping into Allen's voice.

"You ask too much, and you're playing with fire." He moved his arm and turned his head just a little.

"Link." And then the amusement vanished. "Would you really execute me?"

A slow, deliberate pause as he met Allen's gaze.

_No._

_Yes._

_Possibly._

And then he tiredly looked away. "I don't know."

He really did not. For all his theories, thoughts—everything, he didn't know how he would act. God, he wasn't supposed to be this indecisive. A few months ago, if given the order to execute, he would carry it out without question. But now…he would be hesitating.

"For your sake, you had better hope it never comes to that," he finally answered.

"But if it sh—"

Something wrenched inside of him. "Allen Walker, _do not ask me that again_." His hand shot out and grasped the boy by the collar of his shirt. "I can claim _at_ _any_ _time_ that you are guilty of treason. I have the authority—"

Allen merely gave him an enigmatic look and pried his fingers away again. "I wonder," was all he said before he stood up, Timcampi on his shoulder, "if you going to write down any bit of this discussion we had." And then he turned around to walk out of the room. "I hope you feel better, Link. I'll see you tomorrow."

Only after Allen left did those words fully register, and the truth of them made something in him want to laugh out of sheer frustration.

Where was the Howard Link that was bred to be a Crow? Where was the Howard Link that was singled out to be Malcolm C. Leverrier's assistant? He finally did end up laughing, humourlessly, until the laughs dissolved into painful coughs and he was curling in on himself to catch his breath.

…since when had trying to decipher Allen Walker become more important than his job? Why was he even trying? Why did he want what the Exorcist had? Something told him was never going to understand, no matter how hard tried.

Maybe he was more breakable than Allen was.

Just…who in this situation was more of the traitor?

Allen Walker might end up betraying the Vatican, but he wouldn't be betraying himself.

Howard Link would end up either betraying the Vatican or himself, or maybe both because he wasn't honest with himself.

The aches and the feverishness were catching up to him; he could barely think straight, much less try to understand anything. As he finally closed his eyes and gave in to what his body needed, his last thoughts were on the fact that what Allen had said was right; he wouldn't be writing any of this down anytime soon.

He was damned in more than one ways if he didn't decide in time.

**TBC**

**A/N:** I did warn for excessive amounts of tl;dr… *sweats*


	4. IV

**IV.**

[ _April_ ]

It was over.

The War, gone on for so long, was finally done. Victory and loss mixed together, but they had won and that was it.

…or was it?

It had hardly been a pure war, after all. The means of winning…they had been so focused on winning that they would sometimes put morality on the line. Or, give people a skewed morality. His own had been quite off—he certainly had it, but there were many things he had been unfeeling about.

Had been. At the moment, he couldn't really be jaded to a lot of things.

Link's fingers tightened around his pen before they loosened, and he glanced up at the clock to see that it was close to four in the morning. Did anyone know that all the Crow carried out executions at that time of the morning because it was hour of death? Probably not.

…though, he had come close to pronouncing judgment on Allen Walker during a completely sporadic time of the day. God help him, his anger that day….

Tevak's words. The strange morphing. Tokusa's transformation. Leverrier's threats. His own actions. And to think, only a little while before, he had been asked if he were capable of killing Allen Walker. In the very beginning, he would have said yes. Before this happened, he would have he wouldn't know. Now…he would have to say no, he…couldn't do that.

Someone was fumbling with the door, and he raised his head to look at it.

"Link? Are you there?"

"Walker, you're supposed to be in the infirmary."

"Yes, well—" A soft huff indicating that he had sighed. "I want to be in my own room."

A pause, and Link silently got up and unlocked the door. "It shan't be my fault if the Head Nurse comes after you."

"Err…" Allen paused as he walked into the room. Timcampi flew in after him. "I'll worry about that later," he called over his shoulder as he headed for his bed.

Link went back to his desk, the sounds of bed sheets rustling in the background as he picked up his pen again, rolling it between his fingers. Timcampi settled on his desk, nestling himself in his usual place in one unobtrusive corner.

"Everyone…hovers," Allen was saying. "Even though they mean well. I supposed when they wake up, they'll wonder where I'm gone…"

He let the boy speak; his pen was dry, and he wasn't really looking at the blank page anymore.

"We won. The darkness is over, and after everyone recovers, we're celebrating our victory. But I wonder what is next for all of us." There was an underlying tone of bewilderment in his voice. "There…had not been anything else in this life."

It was true. Exorcists did their job until they died either in battle, or old age, or they became Fallen or were even executed. None of them had ever "retired," so to speak.

"I guess we are going to have to wait for the next calamity and a new generation of people to fight it…" Allen's voice was rougher than usual; it sounded exhausted. "It never ends for the world. Only for…certain people."

"The Order will cease to exist."

"…and Central?"

"Integrated into some bureaucracy connected with the Vatican." The Crow would gone and unrecorded. So would the experiments. Only some things would actually continue, because of the Bookmen.

"Is-is that it?" A slight creak indicated that Allen had sat up. "I'm certainly happy we have won, but…" his voice trailed off.

Link knew. A person, brought up and trained for only one purpose. And now that purpose was fulfilled, what next? Moving on. Yes, they had to. But how does one bid good-bye to a life?

"A part of me still wants…to continue this life," Allen's words were echoing his thoughts. "As an Exorcist…"

"I'm sure, with all of your talents, you will find something."

"You know it's hardly that easy, Link. What about you?"

What about him, indeed. His fingernails scraped lightly at the engravings of his pen, making a soft scratching sound. "Perhaps some desk job, or possibly a guard for the Vatican."

"And end up wearing one of those uniforms?"

"…very funny, Walker." The brightly-coloured uniforms of the Vatican guards was quite infamous.

A soft chuckle. "I can't imagine you wearing it."

"I only said maybe." He ended up putting the pen down so that he could look at his hands. Hands that killed and shed blood. Hands that…had also protected and helped, to some small degree.

But such a little degree.

The Noah weren't the only people capable of cruelty. Normal people could be the same, and sometimes worse. The Noah at least claimed to be a family; humans would coldly reject all familial bonds.

"Certain people should be judged for what they have done," he said, out of the blue. "For our own sins are not above the sins of the enemy."

"Link—"

"Like me. If the right people were supposed to be judge, I ought to be among those that are condemned." After months of knowing Allen, and ever since that week he had been sick, he realised he couldn't lie to himself anymore.

"They raised me to be a killer, Walker. This life of peace…I doubt I shall be very good at it."

"Do you think I would be any better? I lived for the sole purpose of being an Exorcist."

"At least you have the blessing of God."

"Is He not forgiving?"

"Some things can't be forgiven." He rested his head in his palm and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. "Tell me, Walker, what's left for the winners? The losers are dead, but we live on. We remember those who've died. But then we die. And who is there to remember?"

"…and here I thought I was the only one who didn't know what to do." Allen snorted a little, but his tone wasn't condescending, merely resigned. "Komui and Lenalee are going to live together. Lavi is continuing his apprenticeship. Krory hasn't said anything about his plans, Miranda and Marie are getting married, Timothy is probably going back to France with Emile, Chaoji is staying on with General Tiedoll, and Kanda—"

A pause. "Well, he has his own plans. And I…" Link could hear the shrug in his voice. "I can live a sort of debt-free life without having to worry about someone taking over me. But…I thought this entire war was a secret."

"You want to be forgotten?"

"I'm still walking. Despite uncertainties, I'll move forward." And he can picture the smile. "…all of us. Even you. I wouldn't mind being forgotten if my friends and comrades remember."

"Hmph," was Link's reply. "And…normal job? What kind, do you think I should take?"

"Um…tutoring children to play chess?"

"Unlikely."

"Teaching a culinary course?"

"…what makes you think I can teach?"

"Well, you've taught me a few things?"

"I never."

"Not directly." The blankets shifted, and Link heard the sound of bare feet padding across the carpeted floor. "But you still did. Teacher Link. What do you think of that?"

"So I went from 'that inspector' to 'like furniture,' and finally 'Teacher Link'?" He twisted in his seat to give Allen a faint look of inquiry and amusement.

"Oh, I would never call you that. You're 'Link' in my mind," And here the boy looked abashed. "It was because I at first didn't recall your fist name."

"Very few people call me that, in any case."

"Any particular reason you always called me Walker? Only…you and Bak do that."

It was either Allen, Allen Walker, sometimes Allen-kun to people familiar with Japanese, Beansprout to two people, and then there was Walker.

"Allen was too familiar, Allen Walker too formal," Link responded as the former Exorcist pulled up a chair to the desk.

"Something in the middle?"

"You could say."

Allen considered this briefly and nodded. "I see."

And then they ended up looking at each other for a full minute because they had suddenly run out of things to say. "But, Link, what _are_ you going to end up doing?" Grey eyes peered at him a little too closely, and Link had to look away.

"Something suitable."

The white-heard boy tipped his head. "Once things die down, I'm going to…travel around the world. For a couple months, anyway. There were places I've only been to couple times, but I was always too busy to travel for leisure." A slight grimace that came and went. "…do you…want to come along?"

"None of your friends?"

"Well, yes, they're coming with me, if I can ever convince Komui that nothing is going to happen to Lenalee." He scratched his cheek and grinned a little. "But I wouldn't mind having you there, because I've gotten quite used to it."

"Oh? You're not a afraid that I'm still taking notes?"

"I don't care."

"…hm?"

"Really, I don't." Allen propped his chin on his hand. "I'm not afraid to be who I am."

Link had to envy him for being able to say that. His life had been about following orders, and now that there were no more orders to follow…can he be blamed for being uncertain?

He supposed…it was time to test his freedom right now.

"I'll consider it."

"Good." Allen stifled a yawn. "I'm going to bed now. When the alarms go off because people are looking for me, wake me up." And he slipped off his chair. "Thank you, Link."

"…for?"

A smile. "You should know. For not killing me."

It is sometimes easy to forget he is only seventeen and that Link himself is only twenty. But this War had forced everyone to grow up quickly, to shed their childish ways in an instant to be soldiers. He watched Allen tuck himself in and close his eyes before Link clicked the lights off so that he could sit in the darkness and muse.

_What had changed_, he asked himself again.

Himself.

Everything.

He felt a weight on his shoulder and recognised it as Allen's golem. Absently, he rested his fingers on Timcampi as his eyes adjusted to the dark and he could hear Allen's breathing slow and even out. He even knew the average number of breaths the boy took while he slept…

All right, that was something that shouldn't matter.

Link glanced back at his desk, at the pile of four notebooks—all his own records. But what use were they anymore? They had been borne out of an obsession to understand, and perhaps also out of envy, which he hadn't even been able to name at first.

Petty, selfish reasons.

A pity it is no longer winter, and no fire is burning…

But at the same it really was a shame to burn all of them. He looked at them for a while longer before he finally stood up. He'd deal with them later. Right now, he ought to be sleeping.

Link squinted at the clock and found out he had entirely missed it striking four o' clock.

The hour of death was over, and now the hour of dawn was coming.

He found himself standing next to Allen's bed. Curled up, mouth slightly parted, the boy, for once, looked young. Boys his age should be running about outside, finding jobs and in his free time being mischievous and foolish. Free. But he had been burdened with that arm, a curse, a Noah, and a prophecy.

And yet he bore it.

All for this.

And he couldn't enjoy it as long as others had. His Innocence, due to the fact that it was Parasitic, had eaten away his lifespan and Link guessed that even Allen himself didn't know how much time he had left.

It seemed…unfair in a way. He could very well tell himself there was little that was fair in this world. But after all Allen Walker had done, was it so hard to ask for the joys of living to do things beyond being a soldier?

He sighed and shook his head, making an annoyed sound in the back of throat.

Allen shifted in his sleep, tossing to one side before he grunted and went still again.

Tentatively, Link put a hand out to touch the white strands of hair. They were slightly tangled, so he only passed his hand through without running his fingers through them.

So much _had_ changed. He never thought he would do this, and say the things he was about to say.

"And…I thank you," he murmured. "…Walker."

Walker, not Allen.

Some things probably never would.

But he had to say he never regretted this job.

_**Owari**_

**A/N:** And I've made this story fourteen pages~ Yes, I am lame.

**A/N #2:** Thanks for reading and reviewing. I appreciate it!


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